


When the skies were lit with Fire

by Sharinarra



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Apocalypse, Everyone is Dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 14:18:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17225621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sharinarra/pseuds/Sharinarra
Summary: What happens when the Brightest Witch of her Age has nothing left but vengeance.





	When the skies were lit with Fire

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [I am Become Death, Destroyer of Worlds](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4434614) by [partiallykritikal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/partiallykritikal/pseuds/partiallykritikal). 



It had been so easy, once. 

The Light were easily gulled fools who trusted too heavily in wards that had never seen any true strength. Never touched the blood and wild of the ancient earthen magics. Couldn’t possibly ever use something so horribly Dark! Never mind that the wild magics were here first, and held all the strength of the true heart of life. Never mind that the tamed and gentle Light of modern times held not a candle to the glaring, blinding, scorching power of the ancient Light of the earth’s fires. Never mind that blood and bone and barely shackled wild magics of every shade were all tied together in the very founding stone of the school they all so adored. That that very same power was integral to the successes of the Founders they revered.  
They didn’t truly believe that a building who’s very structure changed on a whim and which had so many death traps for the unwary that its students played with every day (that they barely even noticed) could ever be anything but the result of Good and Light.

Fools.

The Potter boy and his pitiful Blood Traitor allies hid behind aged and weakened wards in the same place every summer and thought nobody would know or guess where he might be.  
Only the eldest two of the tainted and feeble Weasley family had the brains to realise how vulnerable the family home had been. That was why the dragon tamer had been fed to one of the very beasts he cared for so deeply, on a reserve in foreign lands.  
It was why the Curse Breaker and his half-breed wife were hiding behind the Goblin Wards that only a valued bank resource could hope to be granted, never daring to set foot outside of the bank or the work sites.

It was why the old and battered Burrow had been so very easy to seal in the dark of the moon with only a few drops of blood and the barest hint of the wild dark to bind it.  
It was why the sky that night had lit up for miles around with the towering inferno of fire that bore their anguished screams up to the uncaring heavens.

The Dark Lord and his followers moved swiftly from there, and it was a matter of days before the ministry and the school both had fallen.

Tonight, they celebrated.

Tonight, the corpses of the filth and their families were smouldering in the charred ashes of their homes up and down the country.

Tonight, the Great Albus Dumbledore hung above their Lord’s Throne, dying by inches as his precious firebird watched impotently from its cage of dark waters bound with chains forged of a Merrow's blood.

 

There was only one tiny blot on their victory, but it was one they were sure would be easily rectified soon enough - The Mudblood Lion had not been in the Burrow that night, and had not been seen since. 

But the last and least of the so-called Golden Trio would be no issue. 

After all, she was only a Mudblood.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

In the cold waters of the North Sea, ports opened on two submarines, raising missile tubes to the sky as their coordinates were targeted for specific locations in London and crafted a pattern of destruction focused upon a small village called Little Hangleton.

The other two both pointed at a valley and lake in the Scottish highlands and mountains that all of the maps claimed held no structures save the thousand year old remains of a ruined castle.

 

In the submarines, and all across the country, Imperiused members of the military and government of Great Britain sat at their desks, or in the cockpits of their planes, alarms silenced and hands on buttons and keys that would unleash every deploy-able ordinance upon every inch of the isle. 

 

And in the Captain’s chair of the Trident Programme submarine called the Vengeance, a seventeen year old girl with eyes of wild golden fire and a face set as hard as steel gave the order to fire. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Missiles flew.

Bombs fell.

The British Isles burned.

 

And above it all, the skies were lit with fire.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yes, thought the frayed and burning shade of the man born Tom Marvolo Riddle, as his final horcrux deep in the vaults of Gringotts began to melt under the intense heat of the rising fires of the earth’s heart

 

It had all been so easy.

Once.

**Author's Note:**

> I've always loved those fics that weave the non-magical world into the magical one, and the thought exercises of VoldemortWins! AU's (when not just an excuse for smut) are really interesting.  
> But I have always wondered what might happen when a clever muggleborn with a proven disregard for morals when it comes to protecting her friends has nothing left to lose.
> 
> Then I read Partialkritical's I am Become Death, Destroyer of Worlds, and just had to have a go at my own twist to the idea of nuclear vengeance.


End file.
